by E. C. Bell
“Bright and early.”
“That’s right.”
“And we don’t really have anything much to say to her at all, do we? Clue-wise, I mean.”
“That’s exactly right.”
“Oh, what the hell,” I said, and slammed back the rest of my drink. “We’ll go tell her we don’t know a darned thing, then go for breakfast.”
“If she doesn’t lock us up for messing with a police investigation,” James said gloomily.
“We didn’t know, James. She can’t lock us up for that!”
“I believe her exact words were, ‘Ignorance of the law is no excuse,’” he said morosely. “She was really mad. Especially about me going to the park.”
“Oh.” I’d forgotten about that.
“She said that she thought I at least had a brain in my head. Thought I knew enough to stay away from dangerous people. Called it stepping on a hornet’s nest.” He shook his head. “I have to tell you, I would have paid a fee not to hear her call me stupid one more time.”
“She actually called you stupid to your face?”
James sighed and tipped his empty glass up, then set it back down and sighed again. “Not exactly. But she could have. And I would have deserved it.” He turned to me. “Want to go out and have some supper, then head back here and bunk for the night? We could pick up another bottle. Maybe not that blue stuff, but something. What do you say?”
It would have been so wonderful to stay and have a few more drinks, and then some food, and then see what happened, but I knew I couldn’t do that to Jasmine. She was expecting me.
“Sorry, James, I told Jasmine I’d be home tonight. She’s expecting me.”
“Oh.” He shrugged and grinned. “No chance of another cuddle, then.”
I felt my face heat. “No,” I said shortly, and grabbed my sweater. It was definitely time to go.
“Don’t forget we have to be at the police station at quarter to nine,” he said.
“I won’t.” I turned back to him, hand on the doorknob. “Are you staying here tonight? I thought your place was fixed.”
“Yeah, got the go-ahead to move back in, but I’ve decided to stay here tonight. Just to make sure that nothing more happens to the place. Just in case the dear sergeant is right, and I was stupid for going down to the park. I might figure out a way to get something more to drink, and maybe something to eat, but here is where I’ll stay.”
He grinned at me, warmly, and I smiled back.
“Make sure you lock the door,” I said, and headed for the door.
“Will do,” he replied. “Be safe, Marie.”
“You too, James. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
IT TOOK ME an hour by bus to get to Jasmine’s place. By that time the bit of alcohol I’d had to drink was gone, leaving me with a dirty little headache and an oogey stomach. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or because I hadn’t had anything decent to eat, but as I jumped off the bus and walked up to her neat little bungalow, I decided to try eating something decent first. I wasn’t quite ready to give up alcohol full-time. I had this sneaking suspicion I’d need it.
Two of Jasmine’s three kids were already in bed. Ella, her oldest daughter, was sitting at the table, doing homework. She always seemed to be doing homework. She smiled at me and wriggled her fingers in a quick hello before bending back over her books. I glanced at what she was poring over. Physics. Good luck, I thought, and turned away before she asked me for help.
Jasmine walked into the kitchen and gave me a quick hug. I hugged back. It was hard not to.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“Starving.”
“Sit,” she said, and turned to the refrigerator. “Ella, take that to your room. Marie needs space.”
Ella smiled at me again, gathered her books, and left.
“She’s really smart,” I said when I heard her door shut.
“I know,” Jasmine replied as she tossed chicken, rice, and vegetables into a saucepan and turned the heat up on the stove. “Much smarter than I was, at that age.”
“Yeah, I saw—she’s taking physics. What, she want to be a scientist, or something?”
“I think so, but that’s not what I mean,” Jasmine replied. She turned the food expertly in the saucepan, then went to the cupboard and pulled out a plate. “She understands that now is her time. She’s decided she doesn’t need a boyfriend. She’s concentrating on her studies. Wants to establish herself before she commits to a relationship.”
“Really?” I was surprised. I thought all girls between the ages of fifteen and thirty were in it for the relationships. “Did she say that?”
“I paraphrased for brevity,” Jasmine said, placing the heaping plate of steaming food before me. “She has told me, repeatedly, that she feels I wasted the best years of my life looking for the right mate.”
“Mate?” I giggled, then picked up the fork and tasted. Mouthwatering, as always. “She actually said that?”
“Among other things,” Jasmine said. She placed the pan in the sink and ran water into it. It hissed, and steam billowed up, touching Jasmine’s hair. Curls started almost immediately, and she frowned, pulling back. She hates her curly hair. “I don’t think she realizes that if I had done that, she would not be around to harass me about my life choices.”
She went to the cupboard above the sink and pulled out a bottle of scotch. “After you finish eating, we can toast bad life choices. Or maybe friendship.” She shrugged. “One or the other.”
“I don’t know if I should drink any more tonight,” I mumbled around a mouthful of truly exquisite chicken. “James and I had a couple before I left tonight.”
“Ah, one more won’t kill you,” she said. “I don’t often get to use my good crystal.” She opened a cupboard above the sink and, standing on tiptoe, fished out two etched glasses. They chimed like bells when she touched them together. “One more thing I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been so determined for that perfect relationship.”
“Oh, you’d probably have crystal glasses,” I said. “Think of all the extra money you’d have if you hadn’t gotten married.”
“Probably,” she replied, and held one of the glasses up, so I could see the intricate floral pattern etched into it. “But I never in a million years would have picked something that looks like this.”
She poured two liberal scotches as I finished the last of the food. I thought for a second about licking the plate clean, but decided against it and grabbed the glass instead. Jasmine was right. One drink wouldn’t kill me.
“Here’s to all the men we’ve loved and, thank God, have lost.”
Jasmine laughed, and we chimed the glasses together, then drank, deeply. The scotch was good. Dark sweetness on the edges of the tongue and smoky warmth all the way down the throat.
“Speaking of men,” she said, reaching for the bottle and refilling our glasses. “What’s going on with Cutie Pie?”
“You mean James?” I knew she meant James. I picked up my glass and drank again. “Nothing much.”
“Oh really,” she said. I could tell by the look on her face she didn’t believe a word.
“Really.” I buried my face in my drink, one more time. Just to avoid her smirk. “I even applied for a different job.”
Her smile faded. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I’m stupid,” I said. “I thought the job might pay more. I can’t live here forever, you know.”
“I love having you here. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know. And I like working for James, I really do. But I’m afraid he expects more. And what was it that Ella said? I shouldn’t be wasting the best years of my life looking for a mate.”
Jasmine laughed and took another sip of her drink. “Ella doesn’t know everything. You two seem pretty right together.”
“Now, that’s not the truth, and you know it.” I took another drink myself. “Since I’ve known him, I’ve been caught in explosions, beaten up
, in the hospital . . .”
“But he didn’t do any of that stuff to you. And he saved you from the explosion. Didn’t he?”
“Yes. He did.” I shook my head. “He’s a great guy, Jasmine. He really is. I just can’t see a relationship with him working out.”
“Sounds to me like that would be because of you, and not him.”
I took another drink, then held out my glass for a refill. “Probably.”
“So why wouldn’t it work?” She poured me another drink. “What big secret do you have? He already knows about the crazy ex-boyfriend. What else do you have hidden away that you’re not telling him?”
“Nothing.” I sipped and grimaced. I was drinking too fast. “Well, not much. Everybody’s got stuff they’d rather not talk about. Don’t they?”
“Not me,” Jasmine replied. “My life’s an open book. You want to hear about my past relationships—no problem. I can talk about them for hours.”
I grinned. She was right. She could.
“My kids?” she continued. “I’ll talk about them for hours more. My scrapes with the law?”
“You’ve had scrapes with the law?” This was news to me. “What happened?”
She thought for a long moment, then took another sip. “You’re right. Everybody’s got something in their past they’d rather not talk about,” she finally replied.
“Oh, come on! You can’t leave me hanging like this! What did you do?”
She looked around the kitchen, as though checking to make certain her children hadn’t materialized around us. I didn’t blame her. I’d seen them pull that trick before. We’d be right in the middle of some juicy bit of gossip, and suddenly the room would be full of children all asking for details. I glanced down the hallway, but it appeared all bedroom doors were still securely shut.
“It’s safe,” I whispered. “What did you do?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this.” She giggled. “You’ll laugh at me.”
So it wasn’t murder, then. A person didn’t laugh at confessions of murder. Or drugs either. Drugs weren’t funny. I sipped a bit more scotch, thinking that perhaps I’d had just about enough.
“So what did you do?”
“I—I was involved with a group. That group got in a bit of trouble.” She shook her head. “Man, that was a long time ago.”
“So spill,” I said. “I’m dying here.”
“All right, but you have to promise you won’t laugh.”
“I promise.”
“You have to say it like you actually mean it.”
I held my hand over what I hoped was my heart. “I promise.”
“Heart’s on the other side.”
Oops. Changed position and tried again, hoping I looked sincere. “So what did you do?”
“Broke into a lab and stole rabbits.”
“What?” I decided I had had more than enough to drink. It sounded like my friend had said—
“I broke into a lab on the south side of town and freed all the rabbits they were using for testing.”
“Rabbits?”
“Yes. Rabbits.”
I felt the smirk begin to form and tried valiantly to make it go away. I could tell by the look on Jasmine’s face that I was completely unsuccessful.
“You promised you wouldn’t laugh,” she said.
“Rabbits?”
“Yes.” Her jaw set. “They were doing unspeakable things to them—”
I took another big drink, just to compose myself. I looked at Jasmine over the rim of my glass and laughed out loud at the thunderous look on her face.
Laughing with my face buried in a glass of scotch was a mistake. I managed to breath in, not out, and sucked some scotch, which caused me to choke. That led to me blowing alcohol all over the table. Some of it came out through my nose, which was both extremely painful and in terrible form.
Jasmine stared at me as I choked and slobbered all over the place, then burst out laughing herself.
“Serves you right, you wretch,” she said, reaching behind her for a dishcloth and handing it to me. “I told you not to laugh.”
I grabbed the cloth and wiped my face and my streaming eyes, as I tried to stop choking. It took a minute, and brought Ella from her room.
“Is everything all right?” she called from the safety of her doorway.
“Absolutely,” Jasmine said. “Don’t worry about a thing, girl. Marie just had a karma attack is all. She’ll be fine as soon as she apologizes to me.”
“Good grief,” Ella said, disdain dripping from her fifteen-year-old voice. “Well, keep it down, please. I’m trying to get my homework done here.”
Jasmine and I both burst into gales of laughter as her door clicked shut. “Good thing there’s someone mature in this house,” Jasmine said. “Otherwise, it would all fall to ruin, I’m sure.”
“Probably. Oh, and Jasmine?”
“Yes?”
“Sorry about laughing.” If there was such a thing as karma, I didn’t need to get on its wrong side.
“That’s all right,” Jasmine replied. “Are you ready to share your big secret?”
“What? What secret?”
“Well, when we were talking about James, you said something about everybody having secrets. So, what secret do you have?”
I stared at her.
“Do you want another drink?”
“God, no,” I gasped. “That was more than enough.”
“Good,” she replied. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“No.” I stared down into my glass. “I just can’t.”
“Some day you’ll have to,” Jasmine said. “You know that, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer, but all she did was smile. “You’re lucky. No more interrogation. It’s time for my show. Come on, I’ll catch you up.”
I wiped up the last of the scotch off the table, then followed her to the front room, to watch her favorite nighttime medical drama. And for that hour, I was able to forget my own drama.
I wished it had lasted longer. Drama on TV is—dramatic. Drama in real life is messy. And painful, usually.
Just like nostril scotch.
Eddie:
Crank! Buddy! Tell Me Everything
I STEPPED OUT of the drunk—yeah, picked a drunk—and just felt, well, drunk. That was definitely not what I was going for, but it did take the edge off, a bit. I decided to go find Crank and hang out with him. Even though he couldn’t see me.
Hell, it would almost be like old times. Crank wasn’t exactly my friend. He was more of a business acquaintance. He supplied me with drugs, and I supplied him with money. It was a pretty good system, all things considered. Unless I didn’t have enough money. Then he turned mean. Hey, but that’s business, right?
He worked for Ambrose Welch. Barely above street level, so he didn’t get all the news right from the horse’s mouth. But he knew the guys that knew—and that was almost as good. When he was in a giving mood, he’d tell a guy some of what was going on. He wasn’t supposed to. He was supposed to keep his mouth absolutely shut around us addicts. But he liked to talk, and I was always ready to listen. Sometimes what fell out of his mouth was pure gold.
True, the son of a bitch hadn’t warned me that by going to the churchyard, I was stepping on somebody else’s toes, but I guess that was my own fault as much as his.
I got lazy, believed what he said, and went on my merry way. That way led to the tree.
So, this time, I was going to listen to what he said, and then get it checked out. By that Marie chick. She could do the leg work, since she was the one who thought this all meant something.
Yeah, look at me being lazy again. Screw it. I got a real good excuse. I’m dead.
CRANK WAS AT his usual table, with his buddy. I didn’t recognize him, but it didn’t surprise me. Crank’s buddies were transient and unremarkable. I sat down beside him and laughed when he shuddered and rubbed his arm, like he’d suddenly felt a chill.
Yeah
man, the dead are haunting you . . .
“So, what’s your problem?” Crank asked. “You’ll scare the freaks away, acting like that.”
I laughed out loud. Nothing would scare the freaks away but the cops, or Crank being out of product. Looked to me like he had lots, and I didn’t see the cops anywhere for the moment, so—no problem, Crank. You fuck.
“Nothin’,” his buddy answered. He stood and walked a couple of feet away from the table. Could have been to get away from me, or from Crank. Didn’t blame him, for either of the choices.
I watched them do business—and a brisk business it was, too—for a little while, and was just about ready to go find Noreen just for a change of pace, when Buddy decided to come back and huddle up with Crank.
“I got news,” he whispered. “About Ambrose.”
Rumours—that’s what Buddy called “news”—especially about the top dogs, were always interesting, so I eased closer to Crank.
“What about him?” Crank asked. Although he wasn’t acting too interested, I knew he was. Because he always had been.
“He’s getting a hunting party together.”
Crank frowned. “Who’s he after?”
Buddy shook his head. “Jerry didn’t say. But he thinks it has to do with the shakedown here the other night. Jerry says that Mike said that Joey thought that Ambrose knew who brought that bit of shit down on us.”
“Really?” Crank pointed at a girl, couldn’t have been over fourteen, who looked like she was hurting real bad. Buddy ran off, did business, and when the girl scurried away, came back.
“So who?” Crank asked.
“Apparently Mike thought it probably had to do with that do-gooder who showed up just before the raid.”
My ears pricked up at that. Do-gooder—had to be Marie.
“Didn’t she get picked up too?” Crank asked.
“Yeah, but she was out fast. Ambrose sent a couple of guys over to her office, to find out why she’d been to the park. Who she was connected to. You know. And then, after, that guy showed up here. In R’s face about wrecking his office and scaring his bitch. Even if he didn’t have anything to do with the raid, he disrespected R. And that disrespected Ambrose, on his own turf.”